bittersweet
by kaleidoscope memories
Summary: She remembers a strange boy she fell in love with. A broken boy she watched fall. (Part 1/7 of Remembrance series)


_First one-shot of a series in which everyone from the Teikou days remembers about Kuroko, in their own way. Unless someone else attacks my muse like Momoi did, Kise should be next. Probably. Maybe. _

_I don't have much to say, aside from apologising for: first, how my feels are all over the place, second, for the weird, abstract style I develop when I focus a bit too much on feelings (negative ones, mostly) which involves weird metaphores and abuse of italics and parenthesises, third, for any wrong chronology, ooc-ness and non-canon events (which should be pretty obvious)._

_Many thanks to CanIhazAHug for proof-reading this for me!_

* * *

(Remembrance part one - Momoi)

**bittersweet**

_She remembers a strange boy she fell in love with. A broken boy she watched fall._

* * *

Her mind recalls a boy she doesn't know standing in the gymnasium and wearing the third-stringer jersey. Strange boy, strange in how normal he looks but so peculiar he acts. So monotone — she never met someone so special.

She questions her childhood friend boasting about the stranger, always seeking him out, always laughing loudly with empty space, gathering himself curious looks that he didn't even notice. She forgets for the thousandth time the name of the empty space.

She wonders again at akashi's smirk when discovering the weird boy, his eyes twinkling — with anticipation? with mischief? — when he exposed his genius plan. How she didn't understand at first, not when the stranger was so _nothing_.

Her dreams are full of the horribly humid summer afternoon and looking at her empty palm in dismay while every student around her are eating cold treats. She pouts in envy, wondering whether she could annoy Dai-chan till he bought her one. A thin wooden stick thrusted into her hands with a polite please-have-it, a silhouette gone too fast. So meaningless, but so meaningful.

Her smile widens because of the first practices with Kuroko (she can't forget the name anymore, not even if she desired to) in the regulars. Dumbstruck, confused faces as the ball disappears suddenly, mysteriously. Aomine gloats, Akashi is smug. She just smiles through the whole training.

Her heart tugs with amazement and surprise at the new addition when heading home. Aomine is even brighter, all ear-deafening laughters and arms all over the place. Her cheeks hurt from having smiled so much, her heart beats faster. Kuroko's eyes seem alight with something like wonder — and that part is both adorable and guilt-inducing).

Her blood burns because of the newbie who has the fantastic chance to be tutored by the phantom player but doesn't get it and complains. It takes some time before he opens his eyes _(too much time)_. Only after many I-told-you-so does she speak to him on an even tone and start considering him part of the team. She doesn't forgive, though _(maybe that's because she was the same, too)_.

Her hands get clammy and shaky when she nervously asks to go on a date with him _(just one is fine, please, I beg you, at least one)_. The leap of her heart, the pure elation, when he responds with why-not? and his eyes soften (not much, barely, but it contains so much).

Her stomach is fluttering all over the place and she wakes up hours before the time he'll pick her up at, just so she will be able to prepare herself _(being this anxious shouldn't be possible, oh my god)_. Her clothes cover the floor and the furnitures, burying her bed under fabrics she usually adores but barely glance at now.

She can't forget warm — not icy, not burning, just perfect for her — hands and peaceful eyes. Rough skin, consequence of his stubborn personality, and expressionless eyes, caused by the too high walls he built around himself. Walls she wishes she could break down _(but she doesn't want to break him along)_.

She blushes at fingers sliding between hers, cradling them like oh-so-fragile glass, after she jokingly _(perhaps, perhaps not)_ whined for the gesture. The hint of a smile tugging at his mouth as she marvels at the feeling, and can't bring herself to stop laughing as she realises she has fallen all the way down for him.

She stays on her lovely cloud for a while. The seven of them some kind of tight-knit group trying to tear out and weave closer the threads at the same time. With Tetsu-kun right in the middle, unconsciously, just by being_ Kuroko_, somehow tugging them closer, making them close their eyes in the middle of a game just because they know the others are there_ (Akashi rolls his eyes every time and feigns he doesn't act the same when he gives in the pleasant feeling)_.

She ignores how his eyes aren't as bright as before. How his smiles are now non-existent. She can't read him anymore — he feels like a perfect stranger again. She tries to write it off as her being mistaken _(though she knows she is right)_.

Dread fills her inside like acid in her mouth. The signs are there, though she does nothing _(nothing I say works, she tells herself. A few weeks later she doesn't think she has ever hated someone as much as herself)._ Their picture, once every colour of the spectrum, is burning at the corners, their forms fading away with every game, with every averted glance.

Nights see her fall on her knees, crumble in a weeping mess. She hates being so weak _(how pathetic, really)_, however she prefers letting the tears flow when there is no one to witness. Her childhood friend isn't such a friend anymore, just a boy she used to spend days with; now he'd rather do anything but listen to her. The team is breaking apart, an horrible fest of selfishness and I-don't-cares. Like three years-old, hogging the spotlight and living in their own little world, pulling too hard on the blanket and tearing it into pieces. And Tetsu-kun, he—

She recalls walking in the gymnasium late to find her cellphone she believes she left there, and instead find him laying down in the middle of the court, motionless. When she worries and panics at his state, he promises being fine_ (she pointedly looks away from his crossed fingers that he believes she can't see from her kneeling position beside him. She knows she isn't strong enough to)_. He says he is merely tired; she stays mute, and lays down next to him on a whim. Her heart breaks at how her sudden act shocks him, at how for a moment he looked as if she was about to harm him. She nudges his arm and says _then, I'll be tired with you_, and he smiles a little. _(It's the last smile she sees from him.)_

She remembers sighting his resignation letter in Akashi's hands, sheets wrinkled from the fierce leader's anger. She denies knowing it would happen, thinking it might help _(it doesn't, not at all)_. Even foretelling the tragedy doesn't soothe any of the pain. She doesn't cry anymore, past that stage. It's just hollow inside, a dark void pounding along with her heart. She attempts to erase from her mind his opaque eyes, his weak, guarded expression, his obvious exhaustion both physical and psychological — but those are staining black on white in her brain, ironically for the strange boy who was always invisible.

She doesn't see him for months.

When she finally finds out about his whereabouts, his new school, his new life, she almost doesn't want to. Losing him was ripping her feelings out and leaving her bare. She knows everything about him will destroy her make-believe balance _(she fell down from the tight rope a long time ago)_, will burn away the numbness inside to replace it with raw emotions she isn't sure she wants back. However she is aware she needs to, for the sake of both her new team and her old one _(and perhaps a lot for Kuroko, perhaps a little for herself)_.

She heads to the pool she knows his new team — Seirin, it is called — will be training at. The last time she felt this nervous was when she asked him out — and when she realises this she has to lean against a wall, knees suddenly too weak and heart too heavy, trying to dig its way down. She swears to herself to act as normal as she can _(surely, it is what he needs, not a regretful, nostalgic girl)_.

He seems to be doing fine. Not as great as he used to _(back when they were all centred around the team, not around themselves)_. But when compared to the last time she saw him, his state has improved, more than she hoped. Physically, he hasn't changed much, it is easy to see when he is shirtless. She isn't certain as for his mind, but something about him, when she just looks, doesn't analyse, something seems a little better _(not necessarily happier, maybe simply more determined)_. His head is set high, staring forward, his shoulders slightly relaxed. She didn't think this little could make her feel this relieved _(so little but so great)_.

Talking to him is incredibly bitter, incredibly sweet. Her head is a jumble of mixed feelings, but she keeps it high and converses with him as though he'd never left. The way he responds shows that he does not have anything against her (you got caught in this too, didn't you? his eyes whisper). Perhaps he would have preferred if she had tried harder, she muses when she sees his clouded eyes. (It's too late, way too late, so keep quiet, stupid girl).

When she leaves, she feels a tad lighter. He is better off with Seirin — he is well surrounded there. He found teammates who will help strengthen his play and resolve. Surely, they will be more intelligent than Teiko and won't give up _(or else they will pay. If she doesn't manage to make the Generation of Miracles regret, the least she can swear is to protect Tetsu-kun from the next breakdowns)_. His back is stiff, but straight, and that means a lot from the boy who slumped his shoulders as soon as he was noticed. He is well on his way, she should do the same—

She ought to move on, too. She ought to straighten her own back and run forward, grabbing Aomine beforehand to ensure he will head off on the right path. Feeling remorse and keeping low is entirely useless. She ought to shake herself and get stronger. Stronger, until Daiki stops being so stupid and Tetsu-kun stops getting hurt. Stronger, until they have improved_ (not back to before, no, never back to before)_ and also learned how to _live_. She will have to shake roughly Ahomine first. To achieve this, she will begin by...

She laughs childishly. People stare at the beautiful girl bursting into laughter for no apparent reason, all alone, but she doesn't give a damn.

"Wait for me, Tetsu-kun!"


End file.
